Orlando's Quest

By Pete Minall

Orlando’s Quest

Orland Porthtowan is a Cornishman who has seen it all, a “beentheredonethat” sort of person. He is lovable, knowledgeable, and a great raconteur.
Although retired for some years he still runs a small market stall where he buys and sells old documents, ephemera and other peoples curiosities. Then along comes the one item he can’t resist, it is a small bundle of letters written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, his lifelong hero.
Upon closer inspection he spots something in the correspondence which could just be the end of a mysterious thread. If he were to tug on that end, it might just start to unravel itself into a real life, modern day Sherlock Holmes mystery.

Unsure, he enlists the help of two historian friends, Adam and Jo Waterbrook. They might well be the two people crazy enough to join him on his adventure. Or are they just being polite and keeping him company on what may prove to be an old man’s wild goose chase.

Follow Orlando on his Quest to solve a mystery which may be hidden in plain sight.

This is book four, the final book in the series “The Trust.” Each book is a stand-alone novel, set during different time periods. You do not need to have read the other books in the series but doing so will enhance your experience.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pete Minall
• Release date: Jan 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370530786

Pete Minall

Pete lives in Cornwall, England and loves old English folk traditions and customs, such as Wassailing. He has also dressed up and participated in period re-enactments for well over forty years.Having had three careers, working in silk screen printing within the pharmaceutical industry, technical theatre involved with lighting and lighting design and finally his own shop selling European style board games and puzzles. Pete is now looking forward to retirement and a fourth career as a writer! Pete also does work at Lanhydrock House for the National Trust and can often be found filming bits and pieces on various TV and film productions in Cornwall. He is happily living with his partner, Gabrielle, in Bodmin, Cornwall along with one dog and two house rabbits.

Book preview

The Trust

Part Four

Orlando’s Quest

By Pete Minall

Copyright © 2017 Pete Minall

All rights reserved.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Acknowledgements

About the Author

The Trust

Chapter One

Summer 2017

Adam Waterbrook was lying beneath the open, endless, Cornish sky listening to the distant sounds of the local silver band drifting up from the bottom of the old Bodelva quarry. He opened his eyes and squinted, marvelling at how deep the colour blue could be, at that very moment he knew there could never have been a more perfect day or place for doing absolutely nothing.

The distant soothing sounds he was experiencing as he lay on the grass, along with the sight he was beholding, were both beautifully complimented by the countless scents and aromas of a myriad of plants which drifted by on the gently cooling breeze. They say locally that Tim Smit and the small team who had the vision to turn this old abandoned Cornish quarry into one of the wonders of the modern world must have either been dreamers who hit it lucky or people with an extraordinary vision. Whatever the truth was, he was just glad to be here enjoying the peace and tranquillity of a glorious April day at the Eden Project.

Jo, his long suffering wife had wandered off to listen to a story-teller entertaining people with tales of derring do and swashes being buckled in one of the many idyllic and secluded places at Eden: Little havens of peace and solitude just off the beaten tracks, where people gathered around, lounging on logs or sat with their backs against huge warm stones in the peace and tranquillity of one of the glades. After all, Cornwall or as they now referred to their county of choice, Kernow, which is what the county name is called in the Cornish language, was the place for smugglers and secret places, so why shouldn't stories be told secretly and in confidence to those who would listen? Adam supposed that for countless generations, Shaman and storytellers had passed on ancient, sacred and outlandishly exaggerated tales all told in quiet, private places, just like this. Now a new generation, used to i-pods and TV on demand were enthralled at discovering the ancient art.

Adam and Jo first met at CHRONIC, as the half a dozen or so people who worked there, laughingly referred to it. The Cavendish Historical Research Organisation in Cornwall is the place where they both worked and fell in love.

The Cavendish Historical Research Organisation in Cornwall was a newly opened wing of the Cavendish Foundation set up two hundred years ago by the wealthy Nineteenth Century philanthropist Sir Mortimer Cavendish. No one asked too closely how Sir Mortimer Cavendish had made his fortune, and Adam's office had certainly never been requested to do any historical research into his background, but then, it was a long time ago and at least now his legacy was being used sensibly to research, catalogue, preserve and keep important historical notes, papers, letters and books in Britain.

Just like the Tate Gallery it had been decided to relocate part of its activities to Cornwall. Adam and Jo both felt it was more to do with their Director, Morwenna Strawbs returning to her Cornish roots than the undoubted financial benefits the move brought to the Foundation. Morwenna always relished her Bodmin roots as well as the wild moorland surrounding her family home. Her long, dark, free flowing hair perfectly suited her warm personality and the mysterious nature of the Moorland. The Cornish say that you can take the girl out of Bodmin, but the Bodmin spirit will travel the world keeping her company wherever she may roam is certainly true in her case. Surprisingly, each and every member of their dozen strong research team had found themselves totally behind the move and those who relocated to Kernow as the Cornish call their home saw it as a new start in a beautiful county, a county which the local people viewed as an independent country. Adam had worked for the Cavendish Foundation for a number of years, but Jo was a comparative newcomer. They were both eager to move forward with the next phase of their lives, which would take them to what they later discovered, was to feel like the most beautiful place in the world. Adam and Jo both fondly remembered childhood holidays in this mystical place, a county, not only full of sandy coves and blue seas, but awash with tales and legends of smugglers, pirates and wild windswept moorlands! It also signified their future life together.

Jo returned to where Adam was lying on the grass, enjoying his own space, he was alerted by her giggle as she neared him, You have not moved from that spot Adam Waterbrook, you will become rooted there like one of Eden's plants if I don't drag you away!

Adam got up on one elbow, shielded his eyes from the sun and said to his wife, This is such a special place, he mused, so what else have you found for me to do this glorious Sunday afternoon?

Why don’t we go down to Cornish Market World and waste an hour rummaging amongst the stalls there before you drive me to the pub at Polkerris where we can sit by the beach, then we will watch the sun set and enjoy a gorgeous pint of Doom Bar before you take your wife out for a meal. She smiled warmly as she gave her planned itinerary to her husband, knowing that Adam’s favourite ale was Doom Bar which was made over on the opposite coast from where they lived at Rock near Padstow, it could always tempt him. The beer was named after the notorious sand bar which protects the estuary from the sea, a natural obstacle that had caused the destruction of many small ships over the years. It had also destroyed many a drinker’s sobriety!

So you have the rest of my day planned for me do you? smiled Adam.

Yes I do and your night… said Jo with a twinkle in her sparkling blue eyes.

Cornish Market World lay on the edge of St Austell and was crowded. Adam and Jo loved the hustle and bustle of this environment, seeing which stalls were new, which ones had gone, what bargains could be found and meeting the friendly stall holders who loved chatting about their wares. Adam and Jo always seemed to gravitate towards old Orlando Porthtowan's stall. It had a true miscellany of books, letters, papers, logs, bills of sale, receipts, indentures and prints. Some were framed and were hanging proudly on the walls, but most were kept upright in wooden boxes separated by cardboard dividers, supposedly stored by subject and alphabetically. If only this were true. The adventure at Orlando’s stall was in the looking, you never knew what surprise could be lurking in a dusty corner of an old cardboard box. It might be the papers or documents from some great long gone Cornish estate or the remnants of people’s lives after they had died, all seemingly haphazardly heaped into random boxes. Each held a secret or a tale which begged to be told and it appeared as if Orlando Porthtowan knew each and every story intimately. He could relate those yarns better than anyone they had ever met. Although Adam and Jo were professionals in the field of historical research, Orlando had been doing this for fifty years and had probably forgotten more than they will ever know.

Ah, the young Waterbrooks, he beamed, as they stepped inside his stall. Orlando was old, quite how old they could never tell, but he had a rounded, white bearded face which disguised his age perfectly. He had an air of a long forgotten pirate about him. With his long flowing silver locks, he looked like everybody’s idea of the perfect grandfather and would make a wonderful Father Christmas. A day off and you still can't keep away from the past can you, he winked.

We love anything that is truly old and interesting, said Jo and you qualify on both counts! she tormented.

All three loved the warm and easy way they were able to chat and tease each other. Adam could not credit that this fine old man had only been in their lives for a couple of years. He felt like an old, favourite glove which they had always worn. They first met him here in this very stall, tucked away in a dusty corner of the market, when they relocated to Cornwall and Orlando Porthtowan instantly reminded Adam of Miss Marple, the detective created by Agatha Christie. She was able to solve intricate cases by comparing events to seemingly innocuous things that had happened within the confines of her own her village while things swirled around her in the greater world, albeit, unlike Agatha Christie’s sleuth, he had a full grey beard! With Orlando it was history which he adored and he seemed able to attach some kind of historical reference or significance to all of the precious pieces of paper he had on display or for sale in his stall. He just seemed so Marple-esque in the way his mind worked. It often struck Adam and Jo how he never really wanted to part with anything he had collected. They thought he almost winced whenever he actually sold an item and had to part with it! It looked to the pair of them as if Orlando was content to stay exactly where he was, never leaving his stall or even this area of Cornwall and certainly never venturing across the Tamar into the wilds of England! Most Cornish people viewed the river Tamar as marking the border of their beloved Cornwall with neighbouring England. Orlando Porthtowan was a Cornishman to his core. The dichotomy was in how he was always claiming he was present at this or that world event back in his younger days. They sometimes gently teased Orlando calling him Miss Marple when he was telling them something they did not know. This always made Orlando smile. Adam and Jo never really knew whether he was on Sir Edmund Hillary's expedition to Everest or if he really did introduce Daphne Du Maurier to Alfred Hitchcock or indeed whether he was a young tea boy for the team at Hut 8 which deciphered the Enigma code machine at Bletchley Park. All these stories and a million more like them seemed very far-fetched, but with Orlando, you were never really quite sure if he was taunting, telling you the truth or just plain lying! These tales of major happenings on a world stage were always at odds with the seemingly parochial old man and his warm smile, a man who just ran a small stall in a Cornish market. Maybe the old rascal just liked being the centre of attention, which may of course been the reason he kept on telling them. Orlando Porthtowan certainly was a conundrum.

Adam and Jo secretly mused on how he must have had a former career in variety or more likely on a fairground as a memory man; he seemed able to recall facts and figures on a whim. He either had an amazing memory or was a complete, but totally convincing liar. They never confirmed the incredible claims or facts he told them, any of which would have been simple enough to check on the internet or from a reference book. Adam and Jo both felt reluctant to do so in case his tall tales, for that was surely what they were, were confirmed as such and proven to be rubbish. Then of course their blind faith in this gentle old man would be shattered. Sometimes it is just better not to know the truth.

So what interesting things have you got to show us today Orlando? asked Jo, while idly flicking her way through a shoe box of old farmers bills from the 1950's.

It is all interesting to me Jo, he replied, he stopped what he was doing and his eyes twinkled as he continued, paying her full attention, each little bit of paper tells its own story and has its own life. Take that one you have in your hand for instance, tell me what you think it is.

Jo glanced at the paper, turning it over in her hand to see the back and then pronounced, Well it is not that exciting Mr P, it is a return rail ticket to London from St Austell, made out to someone called Mr Hearne of Tregony Farm with a hotel bill attached. The bill is for the night of May 5th for bed and breakfast at a cost of six guineas, said Jo.

What is the date Jo? inquired the old man.

The train ticket is dated May 4th 1951 and is for the Penzance to London sleeper, the ticket returns to Cornwall on May 6th from Paddington, so tell me Miss Marple, what do you deduce from that little lot, what can you see that is of such interest?

Ah, a Cornishman who leaves the county and travels to England, one that travels all the way to London, a true adventurer, mused Orlando. Well, let me see. Firstly, he must have been a man with an inquisitive mind, of modest means but full of aspirations for the future. My guess is that Mr Hearne was single and had a good collection of books, probably more high-brow than you would expect from a humble Cornish farmer from the 1950's. He was intelligent, and I would think he liked sculpture. Well that last bit is a wild guess but I would be prepared to bet a pint of Doom Bar on it!

Jo was the first to laugh out loud, startling the odd browser on Orlando's stall. Come on Miss Marple, not even the great Sherlock Holmes could have worked that out from a simple rail ticket and receipt!

Not really that hard Jo, said the old man. He paused and looked Jo up and down as if thinking how he could explain things to her in simplistic terms at which she would not be offended, "you see you are looking but not really seeing. I would